


Suspicious Goods

by fuzipenguin



Series: The Odd Couple [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: It's just your friendly neighborhood thief coming to give you things. Wait... what?





	Suspicious Goods

                “Who are you?” Prowl asked, startled enough that he remained frozen in place with one hand outstretched behind him towards the closing door.

                The small black and white mecha standing in the middle of Prowl’s living area turned and gave a small wave. “Your friendly neighborhood thief. But mech… you got nuthin’ to steal!”

                He gestured around him, seeming to encompass the entirety of the small room with one motion of his arm. Prowl took a moment to view his living space from the optics of a stranger and internally winced.

                The room _was_ barren. It was devoid of decorations and of any real furniture. In place of a bed, a neat pile of blankets were situated in the far corner of the room. In the opposite corner was an empty moving crate that served as his table and a rickety three legged stool that Prowl only ever gingerly sit on because he felt as if it would collapse under his weight at any moment.

                The only other thing that took up space was his neat row of data pads by his ‘study area’. They sat in a line on the floor against the wall, held up on either end with small scraps of twisted metal Prowl had found in the apartment building’s trash heap.

                “Then why are you still here?” Prowl asked, the slightest bit defensively. If there was nothing of value here, than the other mech should just move on and leave Prowl in peace.

                “Because it’s sad, mech!” the thief protested, somehow managing to look earnest despite the visor covering the upper half of his face. “You live like this on purpose?!”

                Prowl drew himself up to his full height, doorwings arching behind him imperiously. The smaller mech took a step backwards at the display and then another when Prowl began to speak, voice frosty.

                “I live like this because I do not have the funds to do otherwise. I am a graduate law student and schooling costs do not leave room for much else.”

                And after his family had disowned him for choosing the route of upholding the law instead of breaking it, he’d had to make his own way. The three jobs he worked outside of class hours barely covered his tuition and fueling. He was fortunate that he had scholarships to help pave the way.

                “Oh. Sorry, pal,” the thief said, rubbing the back of his head. “School’s more ‘pensive than I realized. Good for you though. Gonna be a lawyer and all... bet you’re real smart.”

                “Yes. Well, I do not need a degree to inform you that you are breaking the law currently,” Prowl replied haughtily.

                The other mech grinned, backing up towards the tiny single window in the apartment. “Breakin’ and enterin’, yeah, but definitely not stealin’! I’ll leave ya be. See ya on the flip side!”

                With that, the thief dove headfirst out Prowl’s window. Optics widening in alarm, he rushed across the room to peer out onto the alley below, but there was no evidence of the mystery mech on the street three stories down.

                Shaking his head in amazement, he leaned back into the apartment and shut the window, latching it shut. Of course, locking it hadn’t deterred the thief in the first place. Prowl wondered if he even needed to lock his door anymore if common criminals were pitying him for his lack of possessions.

 

\--

                Two days later, Prowl tiredly opened the door to his apartment, trudged across the room to his ‘bed’ and stopped halfway there. Orbital ridges furrowing, he turned towards his wall of datapads. Instead of being neatly lined up on the floor, they were now filled the shallow shelves of a tall bookcase. Upon further inspection, Prowl noted that the bookcase was chipped here and there, but overall seemed to be very sturdy.

                Confused, he looked around, but saw no other differences in his room. Too tired to concern himself with the spontaneous piece of furniture, Prowl finished his trudge to his bed, vowing to deal with it later.

 

\--

                The next night he came home to a lamp sitting innocently atop his ‘table’. It was plugged into the wall and when Prowl tentatively touched its power switch, a soft yellow light emanated from his bulb, perfect for reading by long into the night.

 

\--

                At the end of the week, a four-legged, low backed chair appeared. It didn’t creak at all when Prowl sat down on it. Nor did his sensory panels bang up against the back. He sat in it for a long time, staring sightlessly at the far wall and blinking back optic fluid. He hadn’t sat in a chair like this since he’d left home.

 

\--

                The final straw was the bed. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain steel platform only six feet off the ground. But lying atop it was a soft mattress, one which hugged Prowl’s frame as he sank down upon it. There was even a pillow. A little lumpy and small, but more than enough for just him.

                The next evening, he finished his exam early and rushed back to the apartment, a mech on a mission. He snuck in as quietly as he could and was rewarded by the sight of the thief he had met last week bent awkwardly over a small writing table.

                “You have to stop,” Prowl blurted out, his hands clasping together in front of him.

                “Why?” The black and white mech straightened, tilting his head to the side. “Don’t like the color?”

                “No! These are stolen items!” Prowl responded heatedly.

                The thief’s head tilted even further to the side. “Really? Look like yours. They’re here, ain’t they? In your place.”

                “You put them here!”

                The thief pointed to his own chestplate. “Me? Little ole me? How’d I do that?”

                Prowl jerked his arms up over his bumper and crossed them. “I do not know, but I cannot be accepting gifts of dubious ownership from a stranger!”

                Taking a hesitant step forwards, the smaller mech smiled grinned. “Well, then let’s get to know each other better! I’m Jazz. And you are…?”

 

~ End


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